


you and me, a melody

by raewrites



Series: Mini Fics [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Character Study, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 10:50:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3566912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raewrites/pseuds/raewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iwaizumi opens his mouth to Oikawa’s crescendos, allows himself to exist in the other’s rhythm, adds his own in the spaces, a duet of lips and teeth and tongues, an orchestra of quiet hums that start in the throat and end in the bone, of hitches of breath the other catches and returns with a gentle exhale against flushed skin, and of staccato kisses between mumbled, echoed affections.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you and me, a melody

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

They’re seventeen, grown and growing still, a mess legs and tangle of arms on top of perpetually unmade bedsheets. 

Late evening sunlight kisses the back of Iwaizumi’s neck as Oikawa kisses his lips, tantalizingly soft, barely there, sending goosebumps along the lengths of his bare arms, spiking uneven hairs at the back of his neck.

There’s a rustling and Iwaizumi squints an eye open as Oikawa sits up, the other reaching behind him to slap at Iwaizumi’s fingers balled in the fabric of his shirt, letting out a breathy laugh that reminds Iwaizumi of summer winds, saying a quick, “Hold on, Iwa-chan.” with a voice like fingers intertwining, like hands held up to starry skies, and festival lights flickering on a distant hillside.

Iwaizumi makes a few nondescript mumbling noises, finger snaking their way under the hem of Oikawa’s shirt, tracing the characters of the other’s name against his skin, just under his fading tan line, soft enough that Oikawa’s hips twitch and Iwaizumi finds himself combatting another swat of the other’s hand.

Iwaizumi notices the music playing as Oikawa settles himself next to him again, curls a hand in the front of Iwaizumi’s shirt and whispers against his lips, whispers like a a gentle whirlwind, something seemingly insignificant but something that makes itself acknowledged, something that pulls gazes and stops feet mid-pace.

"Kiss me to this." Oikawa breathes, eyes lidded, lips an invitation, gently tugging Iwaizumi towards him to close their distance, pulling him like the moon pulls the sea from the shore, constant, observationally underwhelming until one stops to think of its complexities, stops to think of the fabrications that compose such a natural process, of the infinite subtleties and minute phenomenons that keep balance, off-kilter and distinctly  _wrong_  should it cease to exist. 

Iwaizumi opens his mouth to Oikawa’s crescendos, allows himself to exist in the other’s rhythm, adds his own in the spaces, a duet of lips and teeth and tongues, an orchestra of quiet hums that start in the throat and end in the bone, of hitches of breath the other catches and returns with a gentle exhale against flushed skin, and of staccato kisses between mumbled, echoed affections.

Even as the song ends, as the tinkling notes of the piano fade into silence, they carry on the melody in hushed endearments, in foreheads pressed together and fingers slotted like two piece puzzles, curled against knuckles as they catch each other’s breaths. 

They are a song that has been playing long before Iwaizumi could ever conceivably remember it beginning, looping with no distinct end; a refrain Iwaizumi has heard millions of times, yet never grows old.


End file.
